A Beautiful Freedom
by PineappleIce
Summary: One-shot, fluffy slash fic. Gawain and Galahad are riding across moors, heading for their new home, after Arthur's wedding. All about the antics which take place...


Freedom.  
  
A beautiful thing, when thought about on the eve of battle, or at the side of a dead comrade, or right before you actually recieve it.  
  
But when you're riding across a wet, sloppy, mushy moor, your wet hair sticking to your head, shivering under your layers of chainmail and cloaks, almost blinded by the thick sheet of grey rain ahead, it doesn't seem too fine.  
  
Not that Gawain seemed to mind. He was singing some old song in an ancient language, his loud tuneless voice floating across the entire moor. Hell, he even had a dance routine, swaying his head and wiggling his hips and arms.  
  
"Gawain!" I shouted.  
  
He ignored me, now singing tuneless lines of noises such as "la" and "duh".  
  
"Gawain!" I snapped again.  
  
He was now onto "yo" sounds. I scowled angrily, pushed a wet wave of hair off my forehead, and folded my arms under my cloak. I gripped the horse tightly with my legs so that I wouldn't fall off.  
  
Gawain noticed my huff and stopped singing. He rode closer to me, so that we were almost touching.  
  
"Galahad?" he asked gently.  
  
I ignored him angrily, my eyes fixed on the sloppy ground below my horse. Gawain reached slowly across and pushed a strand of my hair off my face. I jerked away.  
  
"I'm sorry, Galahad," he said.  
  
I merely snorted in response. He went to wrap his arm around my shoulders, but I moved away. I moved too far, and with a low moan fell through the air and landed face-down in the mush that was the ground.  
  
"Galahad!" Gawain's voice filled the air, and before I knew it his large hands had grabbed my shoulders and pulled me to my feet. I wiped the mud from my eyes and glared at him. He was snickering. I opened my mouth to shoot him down with some crushing comment, but gave a low groan as a mouthful of mud slid out and down my chin. Gawain laughed even harder.  
  
"It isn't funny," I muttered, finding it hard to talk with a tongue coated in mud.  
  
"Sure it isn't," he grinned, wiping the mud from the bottom half of my face with his sleeve.  
  
I tried to think of something to say, but his mouth got to my lips before my sarcastic comment did and we kissed passionately, his lips wet yet warm. He pulled away suddenly.  
  
"Your tongue's all muddy!" he croaked, spitting at the ground.  
  
It was my turn to laugh. I leapt back onto my horse and rode away. He followed, close behind.  
  
"Galahad," he said. "What were you calling me for before?"  
  
"Where the hell are we?" I asked.  
  
He shrugged broadly. "No idea," he said breezily. "Though you look as though you could do with finding a place to bathe."  
  
I scowled. "The mud will wash off of me, Gawain, but no amount of scrubbing can remove your dirt."  
  
"You mean my dirty mind," he smirked.  
  
A small smile played on my lips. "I don't think I'd like that to be washed away," I replied sleekly.  
  
Gawain nodded. "Yeah, life would be boring without it."  
  
I shrugged. "Not necessarily. There are plenty of people with minds like your's to keep a person... occupied."  
  
Gawain appeared hurt. I slowed my horse so that I was riding beside him.  
  
"It was a joke, Gawain," I said.  
  
His lips twitched. I half-feared he was going to cry, but suddenly he grabbed my arm and tugged me over, so that my legs were on my horse, my head on his lap and everything in between hanging in mid-air between the horses. He tickled my neck, my most sensitive spot, and I roared with laughter, trembling dangerously.  
  
"Gawain!" I snorted out.  
  
It was too late. My legs slipped off my horse and I fell a few inches towards the ground. Gawain grabbed my shoulders and held me.  
  
"Pull me up!" I urged.  
  
"I feel in need of a little light... entertainment," he teased.  
  
He let me drop a few inches. I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him off too. We landed in a heap in the mud.  
  
"Galahad, you little twerp, I wasn't really about to drop you," Gawain muttered, scraping mud from his cheeks.  
  
"Ah, but Gawain, I felt in need of a little light entertainment," I grinned. "Now, time to get on the horse again."  
  
"Out in the middle of no where? Why, Galahad, you saucy little man."  
  
"Go and dream about naked images of Bors; you know fine well that wasn't what I meant."  
  
"We could only ride one horse, you know, share body heat," Gawain suggested.  
  
"No thank you," I replied indifferently, mounting my horse. "If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not catch your fleas."  
  
"You weren't saying that last night," Gawain grumbled, climbing onto his own horse.  
  
We rode on for a few more minutes.  
  
"Galahad?" Gawain called.  
  
"Yes, Gawain?"  
  
"They say the best part of falling out is making up."  
  
"Really?" I asked, wondering where he was going with this.  
  
"Yep. So, Galahad, do you forgive me?"  
  
"Er... for what?"  
  
"This," Gawain said, promptly smacking me around the head.  
  
I glared at him. "Only if you forgive me for this," I snarled, punching him in the arm.  
  
"I do," he said. Then he climbed onto my horse behind me.  
  
"Gawain-" I began, put he shut me up by slipping his arms around my waist. I leaned back and rested my head on his shoulder.  
  
I scanned the wide, empty moors around us.  
  
"Gawain, I think we're lost."  
  
"Well, Galahad, you little creepy twerp, if it makes you feel any better, there's nobody else I'd rather be lost with."  
  
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Aww, aren't they cute? 


End file.
